her a sly wink that made her want to smack him. She pretended she hadn’t seen it. After working in bars for five years, she’d found it was best to ignore men like him when they were on the hunt.
“Four more tequila shots and three beers,” she told Sadie, then slid her tray onto the bar.
“I think Sam was trying to get your attention.”
“Sam can kiss my—” Nikki pressed her lips together.
Sadie chuckled. “I hate to tell you, honey, but I think that’s exactly what Sam wants to do.”
“Sorry,” Nikki muttered. “He’s a customer. I’ll play nice.”
“Not if he gets out of line, you won’t. I’ll take a switch to him myself. Though I reckon Trace would beat me to it.”
She sighed at the woman’s teasing smile. “Why would Trace care? They’re friends.”
Grunting, Sadie grabbed the bottle of tequila. “That’ll be the day. That pool table is about the only thing those two fellas have in common.”
“And being good for business.”
“That, too.” Sadie moved the shots she’d poured onto Nikki’s tray. “Although I think poor Trace has been coming to town to get away from those city gals.” Sadie didn’t even try to hide her amusement. “More likely, though, he has his eye on a certain pretty new waitress.”
“You’re delusional and a troublemaker.” Shaking her head, Nikki grabbed a stack of cocktail napkins. “Why does anyone want to work for you?” She ignored Sadie’s laughter and picked up the tray. “Don’t forget to check your blood sugar.”
Sadie glanced at the round clock on the wall behind her. “Thanks, honey.”
Nikki heard the soft gratitude in the older woman’s voice and hurried off to deliver the drinks. Letting herself care too much about Sadie would be a foolish move. So would letting Sadie think she could depend on her. Right now she was so lost and confused she was no good to anyone.
NIKKI WAS FINALLY getting the hang of driving a pickup and she wasn’t even grinding the gears so much anymore. No sooner had the thought formed than she shifted to make the turn onto the gravel drive and cringed at the awful sound she made. The truck Matt had given her to use was old and smaller than the other two big four-door, extended cab models that belonged to the Lone Wolf. He’d tried to convince her to take Wallace’s Escalade, which was an automatic, but driving the luxury SUV scared the crap out of her. Even though she’d gotten her license at eighteen, she’d never owned her own car. In Houston she’d used buses to get to work, then always managed to find a ride home.
The Watering Hole didn’t stay open late. Most of the customers were either hired hands or ranchers who woke up at an ungodly hour to take care of their animals. By eleven the bar was usually pretty dead. A few of the men stuck around if they had the next day off or were close to hooking up with a Sundance guest. No matter who was there, Sadie shooed them out and locked the door by midnight.
Something else for Nikki to get used to. Since she was eighteen she’d worked until the wee hours of the morning. Even while she’d attended community college for two years she’d worked late, and then studied when she got home. This going to sleep early crap wasn’t easy.
Driving slowly toward the Lone Wolf she saw that the bunkhouse was completely dark. Only the low-watt security lights were on in the barns and stable. The house was a different story. Lights blazed from the foyer and Wallace’s office, even the kitchen was lit up.
She saw Rachel’s small white car parked next to Matt’s black truck on the side of the house. No other strange cars were there, like one that could belong to the doctor, so she figured Wallace hadn’t died. It still seemed weird living in his house. She never saw him…only twice in the three weeks since she’d come back with Matt. God only knew what Lucy, the housekeeper, or Rachel thought of Nikki for refusing to help with his care. She knew Matt understood why she’d have nothing to do with the bastard, and that was good enough for her.
The promise her mother had forced her to make still irritated Nikki. Why the hell did her mom care when Wallace finally passed on? He’d caused her nothing but misery. For two years before Nikki was born and three years after, he’d gone to Houston pretending it was business while he cheated on his wife. The arrangement might’ve lasted forever if her mom hadn’t given him an ultimatum—divorce Matt’s mother and acknowledge Nikki as his daughter. That was the last time they’d seen him.
Of course Nikki didn’t remember him very well because she’d been too young. But it wasn’t easy to forget the violent crying jags and gloomy weeks her mom had been too depressed to go to work. Nikki loved her with all her heart, but she would never be that weak. She’d die before she gave a man that much power over her.
3
NIKKI BURIED HER FACE deeper into the pillow. The windows were closed and she’d shut the blinds tight before she’d crawled into bed at four this morning. So where was the light coming from? And the noise…Outside men were talking while horses were doing whatever annoying things horses did…besides terrify her. How was a person supposed to get any sleep?
She blindly felt around the other side of the queen bed, found the extra pillow and plopped it on her head. It helped to mute the sounds but not enough. Oh, man, maybe she hadn’t closed the windows. Her bedroom was too chilly. Even in June, at this altitude, the nights and early mornings had a nip in the air that had her thinking twice about staying for the week much less indefinitely.
With a groan, she flopped onto her back and stared at the digital clock on the oak nightstand—10:16 a.m. Okay, this was a ranch and she knew people had work to do but really, did they have to be so loud?
Her problem could be solved if she just got up and checked the windows. It seemed a simple fix until she tried to swing her legs off the side of the bed. They felt as if they weighed a hundred pounds each. So did her head. She wasn’t the least hungover, even though it felt that way. After work she and Sadie’d had one lousy shot. That was it. And Nikki doubted she would’ve had anything to drink if Trace had come to the bar last night.
That got her heart pumping faster and her eyes fully open.
Okay, maybe she was coming out of a blackout because that was the stupidest thought ever. She glanced around her room, spotted her phone where she’d left it to charge on the massive dresser and forced her feet to the floor. She had to squint at the screen in order to focus on the date. Yep, it was Saturday. Last time she’d seen Trace was Thursday when the blonde had chased after him.
Come to think of it, Nikki hadn’t seen the woman last night, either. Only the friend she’d come with two nights earlier. Which probably meant that she and Trace were…
No. She didn’t care what Trace was doing. She didn’t. Thinking about him at all would make her a fool. Or maybe it was a form of therapy…or avoidance…transference…something like that. She couldn’t think about Trace and Wallace at the same time. If she tried, Trace won.
Sometimes she missed the rinky-dink Houston community college that had been close enough to work that she could walk.
She’d loved studying psychology until she learned how much schooling it took to actually get a useful degree. It could’ve been fun and challenging but she was nothing if not realistic. Higher education required money. And
